The World Of The Powerpuff Girls
by Groudon202
Summary: Even aside from their daily crime-fighting routine, there's a lot going on in the world of the Powerpuff Girls. And not just for them either... Everyone, from megalomaniac mutated monkeys to green-skinned gangsters, from the girls themselves to renegade ruffs, from single-celled incompetent criminals to crazy hillbillies. And they all have strange stories to tell...
1. October 2011 Entry: Relations

**The basic idea of this fic is that it's a drabble collection, or a short story/vignette collection. Every chapter is independent of the other, and they can be read in virtually any order. Throughout, many characters will have light shed upon them, and though the precise style and tone shifts from drabble to drabble, they are all family-friendly (hence the K rating), and they all are just there mostly to settle down with the characters, without life-changing events happening to them. None are launching pads for future fics, and though it can take place in the same universe as my Powerpuff Girls Movie trilogy (between the first and second), it is more show-like then they were.**  
><strong>Though this first drabble centers around Mojo, varied characters get the spotlight, from Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, to Fuzzy, The Amoeba Boys, The Gangreen Gang, The Rowdyruff Boys, and even a certain unexpected Chemical X-enhanced monkey. Enjoy!<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Relations<strong>

He knew from the moment their glorious tale began that he would never be the same as them.

How could they be? As he had rightfully said to them once, "You are pure and innocent, and most certainly loved." He was never loved by anyone. Not since... the incident.

They were just kids. Three little girls was what they were. He, on the other hand... he was a monster. There was no other suitable word. And he knew this.

He watched, from afar, as they played cutely when duty did not call. That was when he envied them the most. When they fought each other, all other thoughts vanished in the thick of the action. It was only when he was carted off in a cop car, or on those rare occasions where he successfully retreated, that he resurfaced these thoughts.

Oh, he would try. He would try to make himself feel at home. But he never could for more than a few minutes. He was destined to be alone.

Maybe he should be grateful? After all, he had something most people did not have enough of, and certainly very few in this town. Raw intelligence. That should have been enough.

But it wasn't. Knowledge can never replace friendship. He even envied others of his own kind, for they were the ones who lived in a simpler world, even if it was just as cruel. He yearned. Yearned just to have a taste of what their lives were like. No responsibilities, no worries, no constant acts of villainy.

He knew it was his own fault, deep down. He wasn't supposed to be like this. Perhaps it was okay. Perhaps it wasn't. He could never know for sure.

But he also saw what they had done one day, he told himself. The very first time they had encountered. It wasn't just that they had worked together. That fact meant nothing.

No. It was the fact that they had bonded. Even if that relationship had mostly been crushed due to his own actions, it would still remain with him, and them, for their whole lives. As they connected with him, as they had built the observatory together, as they had even enjoyed themselves with their special surprise afterwards.

He meant something to them then. Did he still? He didn't know. But they meant something to him.

And there was one image he could never get out of his head. Them, standing there in the rain in front of his box, looking down at the ground as he vented some verbal frustration.

What could he say? He couldn't blame them for not trusting him anymore after how he betrayed them. He wouldn't trust himself if he was in their shoes.

He knew he wasn't supposed to be like this. But maybe sometime they could just fit together, play a game, and share a banana? Or any fruit, really.

Mojo still cared about them, despite everything.

He still cared about The Powerpuff Girls.

* * *

><p><strong>Theme was 'The Wrong Child.'<strong>

**I can't say I'm completely satisfied with this drabble. I fell incredibly sick just after writing the first draft, and I had to submit it without editing it beyond that.  
><strong>**But I still think this is pretty good. Not romantic feelings at all, just potential family caring, which we all adore. We all know Mojo needs a bit more revealed about his character, so this was born. I think this was also inspired by a really old fic, from around July 2002, that was on similar lines. Kind of like the connection between Antz and A Bug's Life, in a way.  
><strong>**Anyways, I would give what you see here a B-. But I had enough fun writing it to keep on writing more - hence this now-lengthy drabble collection.  
>Who knows how many there'll be by the end? I certainly don't. Put it on your author alerts people, because even if I give it a complete status, I may very well keep adding the odd drabble anyways. It'll be an ongoing thing, maybe for years, as long as the contest keeps going at the very least.<strong>


	2. November 2011 Entry 1: Maria

**Maria**

She actually did make me look good when I was in the battlefield. That point when my Papi, Macho Arturo, gave her to me just before he went up the river, will remain with me always, as my 2nd most important memory, next to joining the gang. Especially what he said:

"Take good care of her, Arturo," he had said. "This was given to me by my dad; it's a tradition with us Guerra's. Treasure her close to you, because I'll remain with you through her. Use her frequently, but keep her clean. And whatever you do, don't break her. Maria Conchita Teresa Rosalita is special."

I could only nod, and agree to this promise.

So I did keep her close. I did use her regularly to comb my hair. While at first I questioned why she was designed like a switchblade, I dropped it after a while. It kinda added to her charm, that you did not think a comb would pop out of the pocket.

When I first met the gang, and then became a member, I did my best to keep Maria a secret. I did not know what they would think of her – to most, she was just a switchblade-styled comb.

They did find out, of course. And thankfully, they didn't think any the worse of me. Well, Ace, Snake and Grubber anyway. Big Billy always acted odd whenever I had her out, be it in our shack's corner, in an alley, or elsewhere. He would avert his eyes from me, or stand on the other side of the group. On most occasions I took little notice, as he often did odd things like this. But after a while, I did start to notice it.

And finally, one evening, I found out why.

One evening, after a successful robbery before those accursed Powerpuff Girls showed up, we were back at our shack by nightfall. I was sitting in a corner, reading a book I'd spotted in a rubbish pile. Ace, Snake and Billy were munching their way through piles of ham, while Grubber was messing on his violin. Not thinking about Billy, I whipped out Maria, and swept my greasy black hair back out of my eyes. I kept doing it...

"Daa," droned out a voice suddenly, making me knock my book over in surprise, "can I use your comb, Arturo?" Billy towered beside me, smiling innocently.

"No!" I responded protectively, clutching Maria close to my chest. "She's a family heirloom. You're not using her!"

"But Big Billy's hair need combing!" whined Billy, gesturing to the red mop that rested atop his forehead. By now, Ace, Snake and Grubber were watching, although I barely registered this.

"I said no and I mean no!" I stated in a finishing tone, turning away from him. Reaching down for my book, I made to re-pocket Maria –

But she never reached my pocket, as she was suddenly swiped from my hand. Whipping around, I saw Billy holding her near his head.

"Give her back!" I yelled, jumping for Billy's arm. However, due to his height and my lack of height, I couldn't reach his arm. He leant his arm back and began to brush Maria through his hair.

Panicking, I ran back a bit, and then took a great running leap. Grabbing onto the bottom of his arm, I hoisted myself up onto his shoulder. He only noticed me when I grabbed Maria and pulled. He pulled back. He was tugging hard at the holder, while I was yanking on the comb –

SNAP!

With an almighty wrench, we both fell backwards, Billy still with the holder. But the comb was no longer attached to it. My eyes slowly lowered themselves to the frontal part of the comb, lying on the ground between us. It was broken.

Maria was broken.

Without waiting for anything, not even Billy to say sorry, I started to sob. Just as Ace made to speak, I ran out of the shack, away from them. The cold night air whipped my hair and cheeks as I ran, but I barely noticed. All that mattered was that the last remaining link to my family was gone.

All because of that stupid hulking colossus.

I eventually found myself hiding at the back of the dump's tire pile, having sobbed myself hoarse. But that didn't matter. I had broken my promise to papi. Maria was no more. The Guerra family heirloom was no more...

"Arturo?" Sniffling a bit, I turned around. There stood Big Billy, looking a bit befuddled, with his hands behind his back.

"What do you want, Billy?" I mumbled, shielding myself with my hands.

"Look, Arturo," he said slowly, trying to speak properly, Billy's really sorry Billy broke Maria."

"Well, sorry ain't gonna fix her," I snapped back, making Billy start. I turned back away again, staring at the interior of a tyre, whilst sitting on another one. His words couldn't fix that fact that he'd snapped her in half...

When something was dropped into my lap suddenly. Startled, I picked it up. It was a switchblade case. Turning around, I saw Billy staring at me.

Looking back down at the object, I pressed the button on the side. Out popped the comb that was Maria, fully attached again. She had been rewound back into her tiny hold at the top, with some glue to help. Smiling, I turned back to Billy.

"Thanks Billy," I said, standing back up and putting Maria back in my pocket. I held out my hand for him to shake. "Friends?"

Big Billy smiled, and grasped my hand shaking it roughly. "Friends!" He yelled happily before he scooped me up, placing me on his shoulder. He ran us back to the shack, both of us laughing our characteristic laughs.

And my thoughts didn't remain on Maria for that evening. They centred on my friendship with the gang. Because that was all I really had.

But it was all I needed, really.

* * *

><p><strong>Theme was ''Something Uplifting.'<strong>

**This was my bigger focus this month, compared to Joe. Arturo is one of my favorite characters, and I thought writing some backstory for him would be nice (as his little speech in Schoolhouse Rocked is the most we ever see about him). But what really pushed it for me was the Billy/Arturo bond. I've seen those two together frequently, particularly in the anime version (which I consider mediocre compared to this), and they seem to have a friendship beyond what you normally see in the gang, even possibly beyond their loyalty to Ace.  
>Also, of the three drabbles I've written thus far, it was the only one to have events happening in a physical place, rather then just character thoughts.<br>****The only thing I think that notably hurt it was the length - I had to cut it down noticeably because of the word limit, and I think it felt a bit rushed as a result, particularly between Maria getting broken and fixed.  
>I purposefully chose a simple title so the reader would have an idea about it before even reading it, and yet also be partially surprised. But this has enough heart and character for me to rate it higher then Relations. I give it a B in overall performance.<strong>


	3. November 2011 Entry 2: Joe

**Joe**

To Fuzzy Lumpkins, Joe was his best friend, his soul mate, his constant companion. True, there were his nephews Buzzy, Wuzzy and Scuzzy, along with his three close relations Furry, Fluffy and Hairy, not to mention his several dozen cousins. But the thing was, none of them were with Fuzzy all the time.

Joe was also a means of stress relief. Whenever anyone dared to touch his property, or those accursed Powderpuffs beat him up for "crimes to the community," he could only relax himself by playing tunes away on Joe, be it for just a minute or a half-hour, or longer.

Yeah, Fuzzy supposed, Joe was just a banjo. And almost everything Fuzzy did own meant something to him, be it his pipe, his straw hat, and especially his musket, which he somehow managed to retain despite losing it multiple times. Even Fuzzy himself couldn't quite pinpoint exactly what it was that made Joe as special as he was...

What else did Joe provide? Well, thought Fuzzy, he supposed that Joe helped him relax simply by being there, even if it was just as Fuzzy rested in his rickshaw chair on his porch, or inside his cabin, or even as he drifted off to sleep after a long, tired day. Even if he was just taking a bath, strumming a few major chords (yes, Fuzzy did have basic music knowledge) ensured his brain did not go off into a mad frenzy. Except when someone got their hands on his property, of course. Nothing could stop Fuzzy getting angry when that happened.

Yeah, he supposed Joe was just a banjo, a banjo that, like most of his belongings, he found scattered somewhere in Townsville forest. Fuzzy couldn't quite remember how he came across Joe, or even how Joe came to mean so much to him, although Fuzzy wasn't very good at remembering much full stop.

It didn't really matter either way, Fuzzy finally shrugged. Perhaps Fuzzy's brain wasn't his most developed of organs, but it was good enough to realize that Joe meant the world to him.

And that was all that really mattered.

* * *

><p><strong>Theme was 'Something Uplifting.'<strong>

**Joe was more of an afterthought, compared to Maria, an entry which I put more focus on. It probably was a bit lazy of me to have a second story about a character's relationship with an object - for the same contest, even. Not to mention that it's really just thoughts and reflection. Still, Fuzzy is awesome, as he's among the rarest villains we see anything of (only the Amoeba Boys would be rarer). It was kinda a shout-out for more of him in a way. Also, knowing his voice would be difficult to write, I wrote it in 3rd-person, compared to 1st-person for Maria. But, like Maria, this has enough heart and character for me to rate it higher then Relations. While I originally considered Maria superior to this, I would now consider then perfectly equal to each other. This also gets a B in overall performance.**


	4. December 2011 Entry 1: Uncertainty

**Uncertainty**

_Dear Santa... Father Christmas... whatever you're called._

_The name's Bossman, leader of the Amoeba Boys. The other two members and Junior and Slim._  
><em>As you might have guessed by our name, we're, ah... gee what are we again? I forget...<em>  
><em>No matter! Now, I'm betting you know those Powerpuff Girls. We even heard that they helped you save Christmas once. Well, all we want is to, eh... gee this is hard... be real criminals! But nothing we ever do is good enough for any of them to notice.<em>  
><em>Jaywalking across the road? Tried that a hundred times. Littering? They don't bat an eyelash at that. Come to think, do they even have eyelashes? They don't have ears, noses, fingers or, uh... those fingers humans have on their feet... Even stealing an orange doesn't attract their attention. And all they ever say is "Aw, you guys are cute. But you're gonna have to do better than that."<em>  
><em>Oh, that annoys me so much! Whilst still trying our hands – do we even have hands – at this, we've been waiting since last Christmas for this one. You might remember we asked you to fulfil our wish last year. And while we did learn how to multiply afterwards that Christmas, eventually ending up in jail, we were let out soon afterwards. And we haven't been in since!<em>  
><em>So, we were gonna ask for the same thing again. But then we realized that it would just happen the same way again anyway! So, we thought about it for a long time, which is why you're getting this letter so late. There was no point asking for food, since we don't need it, nor any form of clothing. Tools in crime would be good, but then we realized we'd lose them after one failed stunt! And most other physical possessions would be no use to us also!<em>  
><em>So, in the end, we decided that what we, The Amoeba Boys, want for Christmas, is... ah... Gee, what was it again...<em>  
><em>Oh yeah – a way to get easily noticed by those Powerpuffs. As long as they could say anything other than us being cute, preferably us being criminal masterminds, then we'd be really happy this Christmas!<em>  
><em>We thought since we're, ah, criminals, that you wouldn't give us presents. But since you did grant our wish last year, then we thought you must have put us on your nice list by mistake. Heck, even Mojo and Fuzzy got presents! Everyone in Townsville did, well, except for Princess. So you'd better make that same mistake again, and grant us our wish! Or else we'll increase our level of terror<em>  
><em>Please? That's all we ask for. And, according to the Powerpuffs, we've been "relatively good," whatever that means.<em>  
>- Bossman, Amoeba Boys<p>

_Wow, boss, you said pretty much everything I wanted to say! I'll just back you up then._  
><em>Please? That's all we ask for.<em>  
>- Junior, Amoeba Boys<p>

_Eh... I can't think of anything to add to that... Guess that's why I'm not the boss..._  
>- Slim, Amoeba Boys<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Theme was 'Letters To Santa.'<strong>

**For what I intended with this, it's alright. It definitely amuses when you read it, but it doesn't stick with you afterwards, which Bubbly Christmas did much better. But even getting a look into The Amoeba Boys was worth writing this, seeing as we don't see much of them in the show, and virtually zilch in the fandom. Granted, they are shallow characters as compared to the girls, Mojo and Professor, but they're not noticeably below the show's other villains. Hardly my favorites, but ones whose antics are amusing to watch, especially seeing as they constantly fail to realize how incompetent they are at committing any noteworthy crime above the level of jaywalking or littering. A nice, humorous one-shot. The grade is a B this time around.**


	5. December 2011 Entry 2: Bubbly Christmas

**Bubbly Christmas**

_Dear Santa,_

_Thanks so much for the presents last year! They made me so happy!  
>I'm really happy now. Princess is still pouting from when you put her on the Permanently Naughty List. But most of the other Townsville Villains have been very quiet lately. Even Mojo hasn't been at it for a while. So Townsville is a happier place!<br>But I know it won't last. So, what I want this Christmas is for the villains of Townsville to do less bad stuff. That way the world would be a much better place, and love would make it go round!  
>And... I think most of those guys, except for Him, the Rowdyruff Boys and Sedusa, deserve better then what they have. And what better way for them to have a chance to start afresh then by taking a break from villainy? The Amoeba Boys are cute, after all. Princess is just a kid. The Gangreen Gang live in a shack. Fuzzy doesn't know any better.<br>And even Mojo. Because I still think he's kinda cute... sort of... maybe he's not so cute. But his heart is in the right place.  
>Also, besides that, I would be really grateful if I could also have –<em>

Bubbles rested her pen on the table, staring at the paper. She didn't know what else to write. What else did she want? She had been so concerned with that first thing that she hadn't thought about the rest.

She looked up at the mirror on the pink desk in front of her. Her 5-year-old face was reflected back, her bright blue eyes glowing, alongside her blond pigtails. Yet as she stared into the mirror, no source of inspiration came to her.

"Wish-list block?" said a voice. Looking to the side, Bubbles saw Blossom floating into their room through the window. Bubbles nodded solemnly, as Blossom shut the window on the peaceful snow-covered neighborhood. The self-proclaimed leader of The Powerpuff Girls floated on over, while taking care not to actually look at Bubbles' letter.

"I've got the first wish down," said Bubbles quietly. "But I can't think of anything past that! I'm still playing with those stuffed toys, and I have more than enough clothes." Stopping her words, Bubbles turned her head to look at Blossom, her mouth barely open. "Any ideas?"

"Don't ask for a unicorn again," commented Blossom dryly, remembering Bubbles' previous wish list. "Professor would never let you keep it anyway."

"I know that," snapped Bubbles. She breathed heavily, looking back at her short letter. Sensing her sister's anxiety, Blossom floated down beside her, putting her arm around Bubbles.

"Why don't you sleep on it, eh?" suggested Blossom. "It's only the middle of November. One more day won't make a difference."

Bubbles looked down at the letter, then at Blossom, then at the letter again.

"Okay!" she said cheerfully, bobbing upwards. "Maybe I'll dream an idea!"

* * *

><p>All was quiet around midnight that night. As Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup soundly slept peaceful dreams, nothing disturbed the quiet of their room. Bubbles' uncompleted letter still rested on their pink desk, the pen lying across it. The air was so still that not even the paper rustled...<p>

Until a sudden draft of air blew in, making it rustle. One of the windows had suddenly been opened. A view of the outside scenery, where everything was perfectly covered with snow such that it looked like a Christmas card, was briefly visible before a shadowy figure leapt through, shutting it afterwards. Head helmet, purple cape, hairy arms – it could only be Mojo. Armed with a heavily altered blaster-like device, he crept around the Powerpuffs' bed, until finally he was facing them directly. None of the girls stirred, blissfully asleep.

Smiling evilly at this, Mojo directed his blaster device at them. He slowly lowered his finger closer to the trigger on its underside...

A piece of paper on the nearby desk caught his eye. Lowering the blaster device, he crept over to it. Turning on the desk light, he picked up the letter. The writing was instantly recognizable as Bubbles' not least because it was written in baby blue. Mojo started to read. His eyes darted across the writing, until one particular phrase caught his eye.

"_So, what I want this Christmas is for the villains of Townsville to do less bad stuff."_

Intrigued now, Mojo kept reading. Thinking most of them deserve better... A chance to start afresh... But it was her last part that really piped his interest.

"_And even Mojo. Because I still think he's kinda cute... sort of... maybe he's not so cute. But his heart is in the right place."_

Mojo paused. Lowering down the letter, he turned off the desk lamp, and paced over to Bubbles' side. As if on cue, she rolled over in her sleep. She looked so peaceful there, he noted. So innocent. Not the kind of person you would expect to stop crime regularly.

Very slowly, so as to not wake her, Mojo lent down to her level. He wrapped her arms around her, closing his own eyes peacefully. As though she thought he was a pillow, she squeezed back. Her touch was very soft...

Finally, Mojo stood up. Turning the desk light back on, he quickly scribbled a short note, leaving it on top of Bubbles' letter. Once done, he picked up the blaster device, and opened the window. Just before he left, he looked back.

Bubbles still retained that smile that, somehow, touched him.

Mojo closed the window from the outside. Down on the ground, he walked down the pathway, back to his observatory. At least for tonight.

Back in the Powerpuff's room, Bubbles cuddled Octi, unaware of the new note waiting for her on top of her own.

_Wish granted. Mojo._

* * *

><p><strong>Theme was 'Letters To Santa.'<strong>

**I wrote this one after Uncertainty, although it was the bigger focus.  
>Generally, I wanted something that would just remind us all what the true meaning of Christmas is. Hence the central themes of a child's innocence, and following your heart. Also, there's a reason equal focus is given to both Bubbles and Mojo, as we need to see how innocent Bubbles is so we understand when that melts Mojo's heart. Even a monkey has a heart (I seem to use that theme a lot, don't I?)!<br>****This in definitely my best drabble so far, eclipsing Maria for that title. It was cut by a few short sentences, but by my own choice to keep the pacing (and to cut out pointless description), not due to the contest's restrictions. Again, the timeless title was chosen so that it will not age badly, as most fanfictions do. Even now, it gets me every time I read it. A near-perfect drabble. A-**


	6. January 2012 Entry: That's Bananas!

**That's Not Just Bonkers – That's Bananas!**

Hacha Chacha never really wanted to be a villain, in all honesty. Yes, he did participate in the rampage upon Townsville alongside his fellow ex-zoo monkeys. But not only were the effects of Chemical X only just kicking in (meaning their ordinary primate instincts were still dominating), they felt rather angry, at least at the humans who locked them up in the zoo.

Notwithstanding that, while Ojo, Baboon, Blah-Blah and Killa wreaked havoc in their machines, and Rocko, Cha-Ching, Rolo, Cruncha, Bonzo, Wacko and Pappy tormented the citizens, with the Go-Go gibbons and Doot-Daa-Doot's patrolling the skies, and Hota riding a tidal wave, Hacha just gorged himself on a local banana stand. They were just as human as Mojo or even The Powerpuff Girls, but he still had a craving for that kind of produce, although he had also intended to try out the taco stand.

That never happened, of course. The Powerpuff Girls, whom he had briefly seen when they had first taken over, blasted off into space, and then saving the citizens, opened a can of whoop-ass on him, knocking him out cold with a black eye. When Hacha finally came to, he discovered that he and the other monkeys, bar Mojo, were on a tropical island in the middle of the ocean, with all their technology and costumes missing. They had no means to get off the island, for it was a simple one, with enough food, trees, and even a hot spring for them to get by. Not much else, mind. Hacha was lucky in that there were more than enough bananas for everyone, despite there being more than 100 monkeys, but the others had loads to complain about. Cha-Ching was missing his cymbals, Rocko lacked his steel gloves, and they were naked. Not a problem before, but with their intelligence close to Mojo's, and above most humans' thanks to Chemical X, wearing their birthday suit's 24/7 felt unnatural. They did live as advanced as they could, in relatively cozy huts, eating their foods on fires, working together in a civilized manner, but it could never match their experience back on the Townsville streets.

Hacha' real ambition was to cook. Their island didn't provide much for him to go by, naturally. He was nonetheless appointed head chef by Cha-Ching. When they had woken up here, there had been heated debate over who should be leader. Cha-Ching ended up being the overall leader, with Rocko and Hota being co-leaders. Ojo, Baboon, Blah-Blah and Killa worked on The Big Project (in other words, a way to get back to the mainland). For his own job, Hacha had half of the Doot-Daa-Doot's under him, since 100 mouths was a lot to feed. So he directed fetching and preparation, doing some himself from time to time.

The general consensus, of course, was that if they got back to the mainland they would continue villainy. But for a while Hacha had been thinking otherwise.

That evening he finally decided to voice his opinions. All the Doot-Daa-Doot's were gathering raw food or preparing a fire, so he had his hut to himself, sorting through piles of berries, and throwing away those that looked poisonous – by now he could tell this within two seconds.

Suddenly, Cha-Ching wandered in. "Hey Hacha," he said, approaching. Hacha saw him every day, but they rarely talked one-to-one. "Your delegates out getting tonight's meal?"

"Yeah," said Hacha slowly. He pushed three black berries to the side, knowing they were dangerous. "I sent them out a half-hour ago, they should be back soon."

"Good thing too," chuckled Cha-Ching. "I can't stand Wacko before mealtimes, he's restless. He's been running around the island all day. Delusions of grandeur."

"Him and everybody else here," Hacha said. Cha-Ching sniggered, gripping his wooden cymbals. He had made cymbals out of wood soon after their arrival, but it was a known fact they weren't the same for him.

Hacha hesitated, thinking that if he didn't say anything now, he never would. And despite his pompous manner, Cha-Ching was a good leader, so Hacha had an inkling he'd listen.

'Hey, Cha-Ching,' started Hacha slowly. Cha-Ching turned his head sideways towards him. 'For a while now, I've been thinking...'

'What about?' questioned Cha-Ching. 'I've told you, we don't have the ingredients to make tacos here.'

'Not that,' said Hacha regretfully. If he ever got off of here, trying a taco was in his Top 5. 'Just about... what we should do when we get back to America?'

'That's obvious,' said Cha-Ching instantly. 'Villainy, remember?'

'I know, I know,' said Hacha. He sniffed a curious purple berry, putting it aside – Ojo had a keen eye for those he couldn't deduce himself. 'But, I'll be honest... I want to be a cook.'

Surprisingly, Cha-Ching stared only for a few seconds. 'That's okay. You can still cook for us while we're villains. Even villains need to eat.'

'Tell me about it,' mumbled Hacha. Rolo could eat his whole body weight on occasions. 'But, I kinda meant... cooking outside of villainy...'

For the longest while, Cha-Ching just stared. A lot of time seemed to pass as Hacha continued sorting through berries.

'Are... are you serious?' said Cha-Ching finally.

'Pretty much,' replied Hacha. 'I mean, the one time we tried it, we failed miserably, after all. Don't get me wrong, I do want to get off this island and back into a civilized world.' Hacha paused to swipe at a nearby fly, making it buzz off and away. 'I just... was hoping to get somewhere there.'

'You'll never get anywhere in the human world,' objected Cha-Ching. 'No human's gonna hire a proboscis monkey as a cook.'

'I know that,' said Hacha, finishing with the last of the berries. 'But could you at least, you know... think about it?'

'Cha-Ching?' Both of them turned around to see Rocko peering into Hacha' hut. 'You'd better get out here; Ojo and Baboon think they've got it.'

Cha-Ching turned to leave. Halfway to the entrance, he looked back at Hacha, who was watching him intently.

'I'll think about it, alright?' Hacha nodded his approval, and Cha-Ching followed Rocko into the forest.

Left alone to his thoughts, Hacha scooped up the unsafe berries and left the hut, heading for the island's edge to dump them off. Sure, he had about as much chance of getting hired as a cook by humans as they did of ever seeing Mojo again...

Maybe he could set up his own banana and taco bar?

* * *

><p><strong>Theme was 'New Beginnings.'<strong>

**These guys need more in the fandom. I've only seem them in a few fics, tops.  
>I really liked this drabble myself. I'd put it second, next to Bubbly Christmas. This gets a A- from yours truly in overall performance. I just loved developing Hacha as... well, the lovable fool, there's no other way of putting it. And this drabble's sense of humor was tuned to that of the movie's, even adding some very subtle pop culture references (comment and mention if you found one), but only a few so as to not saturate it. There were also a few subtle things I did to make the monkeys more likable then they were in the movie - notably referring to them primarily by their first name only. Very subtle, but very clever.<br>It spoke about a character's dream, and also about being pushed into something else, initially giving into peer pressure, and later questioning it, along with a doubtful leader. Many themes, but I think I juggled them successfully.  
><strong>

**On a side note... this drabble won the contest in the month it was entered in! Who says a monkey can't win the hearts of humans? **


	7. February 2012 Entry: Soaring

**Soaring**

All three Powerpuff Girls had something they loved most about their powers. For Bubbles, it was all about speed. Even though she wasn't the fastest Powerpuff, she was the greatest at quick & sharp twists and turns, even on the ground, and that gave her a rush, even though she wasn't as dependant on her powers as the other two. Buttercup's take-no-prisoners attitude was reflected in that she lived for the strength that her powers gave her. She liked its other attributes too, but this facet was what made her crave the Chemical X that flowed through her veins and arteries the most.

For Blossom, however, it was the ability to fly. Aside from being a Powerpuff and being the leader, soaring with and above the clouds, whether with her sisters or alone, was the greatest feeling she could ever experience. It just... it couldn't be put into words; it felt that special to her. Blossom usually wasn't the type to be really excited about something that she and only she could do – that was drifting close to an attitude of Buttercup's, not hers. Hence why she never expressed this urge to anyone else – ordinarily.

One day, Blossom found herself zooming home on her own. There had been a monster attack, but it had just being a puny mutated bug about a storey or so high. As Buttercup was engrossed in a video game, and Bubbles had insisted on finishing yet another drawing of Octi, Blossom had, for the sake of her position of leadership and her reputation, volunteered to take care of the monster herself. Now she was on her way home, alone. All that was really on her mind right now was the meal that Professor was cooking for Blossom and her sisters later.

It was as she passed a funny-shaped cloud, however, that she heard a small whimper. Pausing, Blossom concentrated with her super hearing. It sounded like... like someone was crying for help, almost. Without hesitating, Blossom shot her way down to the ground. It took no time at all before she found the victim: a little boy of age 4, huddled up and crying in the middle of a grassy hill in a park.

"What's wrong?" asked Blossom. Sniffling, the little boy looked up at her. He widened his eyes once he saw who she was, yet he still looked shaken.

"I... I got lost from my mommy," he said in a timid voice. "I just left the house for a minute, and..." He trembled a lot here. Blossom gently took his hands, and he sobered up enough to continue. "And now I can't find her."

Blossom knew instantly what to do. She stood up, hoisting up the little boy in her arms. "I'll fly you home," Blossom offered without hesitation, her eyes shining brightly. "Where do you live?"

"Real close to your house!" piped up the boy. "About 5 minutes away on the opposite road!"

"Hold on tight, then," advised Blossom. She took off gently, making sure to not let the boy go. He was trembling a lot in her arms at first, but by the time they reached the height of the clouds, he was gaping at every amazing sight they could see.

"It's..." The boy was breathless, and not just from the height they were at. "It's amazing up here."

"Yes," said Blossom, drifting left and right as she veered through the sky. Even someone as young as this boy understood her passion for soaring and gliding. "Yes it is."

"That cloud looks like a dog!" said the boy suddenly, pointing to their right. Turning her head, Blossom saw that he was right; there was a cloud shaped a little like a puppy.

"I suppose it does," said Blossom back, her enjoyment of this not contained.

"Ooh, ooh!" Piped up the boy again, jabbing in another direction. "That one looks like..." Before the boy had finished his sentence, Blossom had turned again.

This cloud greatly resembled Blossom, with her eyes closed in happiness and her arms outstretched, floating in the air. Surrounding this cloud were several other standard, fluffy clouds. It was an almost perfect replica of Blossom's flying passion, notwithstanding that she wasn't made of condensed water droplets.

"It looks like me, doesn't it?" said Blossom. The boy nodded, suddenly pointing out another cloud.

This game of cloud-spotting continued, with the two of them spotting out very unique cloud shapes, the highlight of which was two clouds resembling Buttercup giving Fuzzy the old one-two. Before the boy giggled so much he fell from her grip, Blossom blew these clouds away in the direction of Fuzzy's forest shack (it completely engulfed it with a nice 'whoosh').

All too soon, though, they had reached their destination. Blossom dropped the boy down on his front lawn, and he ran up to his mother, hugging her. The mother thanked Blossom endlessly, making her blush. Blossom watched at they embraced happily.

"Thanks Blossom!" waved the boy as Blossom prepared to take to the sky again. "I had a lot of fun!" Blossom smiled at him before she took off, flying lower this time as she had less distance to go.

Yet just as she was approaching the Utonium Chateau, Blossom stopped in the air. A cloud nearby looked a lot like Blossom carrying the boy, even though it was a little crude. How two clouds could blend like that was a mystery even to Blossom, but she didn't really notice. She trailed off, noticing several other cool cloud shapes around her.

Maybe she could hold off of returning home for a few more minutes...

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt was 'Flying', issued by yours truly.<strong>

**This one's a decent read, although it doe suffer from trying too hard. I don't like it as much as some of my previous ones, particularly Bubbly Christmas and That's Not Just Bonkers - That's Bananas! ****I'd put it on the same level as Relations, personally.  
><strong>**Now I come to think about it, Blossom might not have been the right Powerpuff to focus on for Soaring... Bubbles might have been better, but I decided to try and use Blossom. I kept her in-character well, certainly.  
><strong>**In the end, Soaring's cute and nice, although it doesn't leave a lasting impression as much as Bubbly Christmas. For considering it was for my own prompt, it was alright. B-**


	8. March 2012 Entry: Routine

**Routine**

She didn't know why the thought hadn't crossed her mind before.

From day to day, she and her sisters fought crime, monsters and the Villains of Townsville. It went as regular as clockwork. Back robbery here, Monster Isle monster there, with the usual Mojo Jojo attack sprinkled in for good effect. Oh sure, sometimes the routine would instead involve Fuzzy Lumpkins going darn crazy, the Rowdyruff Boys being jerks, and Mayor struggling with his pickle jar (again!). On occasion, it might even require them to go up into space to stop an incoming asteroid, before speeding back to Earth only to catch Sedusa trying to sneak priceless vases from the museum. And she got a real kick on those occasions when it varied itself up a little or even a lot.

But it boiled down to one thing: routine. And that was what infuriated Buttercup.

It was, if possible, even worse for Buttercup when there were no calls on the Powerpuff Hotline all throughout the day. Even if it was a school day, she was still bored for the afternoon. And if it happened on a weekend... well, don't even get her started on that facet. If you don't want to be in hospital for a week, anyways. Buttercup's bad enough bored on a weekday.

That's not to say she didn't try to do ordinary kid stuff on those days.  
>On the contrary, she tried the most, way ahead of Blossom and even ahead of Bubbles' colouring traits. Some of them circled back to crime fighting, such as her favourite ham that was the equivalent of a punching bag. Occasionally, she would also try something girly as well. She gave up on these attempts after a while though, mostly because she couldn't stand having another tea party with Bubbles, Octi, and a dozen of her stuffed animals.<p>

Probably one of the things that she tried the most was video games.  
>If it was a quiet day in Townsville, it was a safe bet that, at some point in the day, Buttercup would be seated on a bean bag, facing the television with a console controller in hand, engrossed in a virtual world brought to life both on the screen and in her eyes. For a five-year-old, and especially a girl, Buttercup was talented at these video games. Whenever she had Mitch Mitchelson over to play at their house (and it happened more than once, surprisingly), they would be fiercely locked in a game of Space Hyperdrive, twisting and turning their fighters through Realspace to Hyperspace and back again.<br>And it was a great comfort to Buttercup that someone else was there to collectively groan with her when Bubbles changed the channel over to yet another episode of Blarney the Singing Sea Serpent.

But, rather often, Buttercup would be only five minutes from the end of a game's level, beating her own high score, or whatever it was, when the Powerpuff Hotline would go off. And, whether she had been playing alone, with Mitch, or with someone else, once she returned after Mojo had been chucked in jail (for that was the most likely outcomd), she would find it hard to reclaim her video game, even though she had left it on.  
>It didn't matter whether it was because it was her bedtime, someone else wanted the television, or even that the power had gone out – it happened all the time.<p>

And that was the second element of routine that infuriated her.

Yet despite, or perhaps because of, these regular interruptions into her pastimes, Buttercup enjoyed both the crime fighting and the video games even more so.  
>When more time passed between each Hotline call, she was often so psyched up that the girls would dispatch the monster, Gangreen Gang, or whatever the trouble was that time that much quicker. And, because lengthy playing opportunities were scarcer, she looked forward to playing the video games on an even grander level, because it meant she was pumped enough to get past her old score in half the time it had taken her previously.<br>Or crush a tougher level like it was next to nothing to her. Either way that showed she was the best at Space Hyperdrive, it didn't really matter to Buttercup, in all honesty.

So the third element of routine didn't infuriate Buttercup.

It inspired her.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt was 'A First Time For Everything.'<strong>

**When I first wrote Routine, I was convinced it was my best drabble. Now, I'm not sure. I think some of the paragraphs should have been split, as it flies by too quickly (something I've partially rectified here, as opposed to it's original form). It was initially longer, but as part of my recent (as advised from a Stephen King book, On Writing) slam-down on adverbs & pointless description, I cut it down by about 150 words.  
>The power of each element of routine, mind, still sparks. Greatly so. The references to several episodes (notably The Best Rainy Day Adventure Ever and Child Fearing) don't hurt either. Not to mention how well integrated the prompt actually is. I'll give this bad boy a B+, third of all my drabbles thus far, behind Bubbly Christmas and That's Not Just Bonkers - That's Bananas! Buttercup's also my favorite Powerpuff Girl.<strong>


	9. April 2012 Entry: An EggCellent Easter

**An Egg-Cellent Easter**

Easter in Townsville was always a very jolly affair.

For all of the kids it was an especially jolly time. While it didn't quite compare to Christmas or Halloween or even their birthdays, it was nonetheless a very special event. Filled with all the usual shenanigans, from Easter eggs to treasure hunts, it was hard to beat the excitement leading up to Easter. And the adults enjoyed it just as much.

The reason it was so unusual was because it was the only guaranteed day of the year, apart from Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, where there was no crime. Nothing. No bank robbery or jewel heist, no monster attack. Even the Townsville villains wouldn't do anything; they got caught up in Easter too. Mojo stayed away, the Gangreen Gang bonded, Fuzzy visited his fellow Lumpkins up the mountains, even Him did nothing for two weeks surrounding Easter for some reason.

All except for one person. There was only one person who could never fully enjoy Easter, although it wasn't the fault of said person, who was...

Bubbles.

That's right, Bubbles. And all because of a chocolate allergy.

It was discovered in an unusual way too. The previous Easter, the girls had been enjoying it so much, they were so happy. Until Bubbles started freaking out weirdly after they had some eggs. The Professor took her down to the lab and, after curing her of whatever it was, tested her thoroughly. Once he had preformed the tests, some shocking results came back.

Recently, when Bubbles had had some vision problems when battling a Giant Ant, they had vanished afterwards only to be replaced by hearing problems. Professor was able to fix that quickly, and no other problems showed up afterwards. Until now. Obviously Bubbles hadn't any chocolate since then. Because Professor couldn't further study this except through making Bubbles eat chocolate – which was out of the question, of course – he was at a loss of how to fix it.

It was bad enough outside of Easter. But Bubbles had been dreading Easter this year. The Professor did have some chocolate-free snacks, which would have fixed the problem if it weren't for the fact that the most important part of Easter, for the kids, was giving and receiving Easter eggs. Something she would have to miss out on.

And so it was that Bubbles stayed in on Easter Sunday. While they had gone around last year, swapping eggs with their fellow Kindergartners, Bubbles couldn't partake in that, obviously, so she decided to stay at home. Picking up sweet after sweet, she swallowed them down silently. They were tasty, true, but having them alone felt no different than any other day.

It wasn't fair, Bubbles thought! Everything happened to her! First her sisters thinking she wasn't hardcore enough for anything past Level 2. Then there was the sight and hearing problems, of course. Not to mention the throat problem, right when Townsville experienced a squirrel infestation, leaving her incapable of talking to them.

Sighing, Bubbles reached inside her sweet packet. Strange, she thought, it was lighter last time she took one. Shrugging it off, she tossed it into her mouth, chewing on it and swallowing it whole.

Wait a minute, Bubbles suddenly thought. This was a different kind of sweet! She looked down at the packet. It wasn't hers – it was a different packet, a different brand. She looked across the table, and saw her own packet on the other side. But what she really noticed was who was there.

It was Blossom. Blossom was sitting there, smiling at Bubbles.

Bubbles was left speechless. Why was she here? Bubbles heard her and Buttercup leave earlier to have fun with their friends.

"Blossom?" asked Bubbles. Blossom smiled back at her, looking as happy as Bubbles wished she was. "Wh... Why are you here?"

"I've got something to show you," said Blossom. She floated over, picking up the two sweet packets. "It's in the back garden."

"Blossom," sighed Bubbles, leaning her head on the table. "I'm not in the mood. "Maybe tomorrow..."

"Are you sure Octi would agree with that?" asked a voice suddenly. Looking up, Bubbles saw Buttercup floating by the back door. And in her hands was Octi.

Her Octi.

"Hey!" Bubbles looked up at Blossom, who shrugged while also smiling. "Give him back!" Bubbles shot after Buttercup, who fled through the back door. Bubbles shot through the door as well, unknowingly followed by a floating Blossom. In the back garden, Bubbles swiped Octi out of Buttercup's hands –

And then she stopped dead.

In the back garden were all of their friends from Pokey Oaks, milling around and talking. Bubbles didn't even ponder how they got there without her noticing, though. All of them had Easter treats. Yet none of them had anything containing chocolate.

They were all safe enough for her to be around.

Bubbles didn't know what to say. As everyone turned to face her and waved, she slowly dropped Octi. Blossom and Buttercup floated down beside her.

"Sorry we didn't tell you about this," said Blossom with a knowing smile. "But that would have spoiled the surprise!"

"Yeah," added in Buttercup from her other side. "It was hard setting this up without you noticing, I'll tell you that."

"Girls..." Bubbles was breathless. She pulled them both into an embrace. "I... thank you."

Buttercup shifted a bit, her head beside Bubbles.' "Eh, that's what sisters are for."

"Come on!" yelled out Mitch suddenly. The three Powerpuffs broke apart, looking at the others. "Are we gonna get this Easter started or what?"

"Yeah!" yelled out all the others kids in chorus.

"Let's do it!" yelled the three girls, running forwards to engage in some treat-swapping with their friends.

Professor eventually did figure out a way to heal Bubbles' allergy. But she never forgot what her sisters did for her that Easter.

It was the most Egg-Cellent Easter ever.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt was 'Celebrating Easter.'<strong>

**The idea for this came from many similar Easters I've had. I'm not allergic to chocolate, but I don't like the stuff. So it was nowhere as near as severe, loneliness-wise, as I made it for Bubbles. I decided on using the episode Bubblevision as a basis, even though the hearing problems at the end of that episode were mostly for laughs. It seemed like a good basis for Bubbles getting the problem she has here.  
><strong>**As with Soaring, this did not hold up as well as when I first wrote it. It was a good idea, well-constructed, but I think it suffered from being restricted to the drabble format. The meat of the drabble was far too short for it's own good. Ever since December, all my entries (with the exception of Routine) have been close to or on the border of the word limit. I did not have to really cut them down by more then a few words, though - I was writing them with that limit in mind. And, apart from That's Not Just Bonkers - That's Bananas! (best writing I've done for these contests, I think, and it won to boot) the others, particularly Soaring and now this have felt... under-structured, unable to make an impact.  
>Or maybe it's just too bland for it's own good. Too much sugar, not enough spice.<br>****All in all, it's a decent enough drabble, though still probably on the lower rung compared to others I've written. B-**


	10. July 2012 Entry: The Mexican and Monkey

**The Mexican, The Monkey And The Banana**

"Alright," began Ace, speaking to the four green-skinned gangsters seated around on their shack floor. 'Who's turn is it tonight?'

'Isss thinksss it'sss mine,' hissed Snake, raising his hand.

'Daah,' wondered Big Billy, putting a finger to his lip. 'Wasn't it your turn yesterday?'

Grubber blew his recognizable raspberry sound. Once Ace, Snake and Big Billy had turned to him, he turned his head to his right, the others following suit.

'Oh yeah,' said Ace, suddenly, realizing what Grubber was implying. 'Arturo, it's your turn.' The Hispanic midget smiled at these words.

'Gracias, Ace,' grunted Arturo.

'What're ya gonna do, Arturo?' smiled Big Billy in a semi-innocent manner.

'Well guys,' began Arturo,' gazing off into space. The other four listened patently. 'There was this one time…'

* * *

><p><em>A younger Arturo, dressed the same as usual but with a backpack and sporting a cool sombrero, trailed behind several taller Mexicans, making their way through a forest, on some South-East Asian Island.<em>

_Blowing his lips in boredom, he glanced sideways as they walked – and then he stopped._

_Doubling back a few paces, he turned fully to his right._

_There stood a tree. Attached to the tree was a branch._

_And at the end of the branch was a banana._

_A banana replaced Arturo visible pupil, a smile also on his face._

_Shaking his eyes back to normal, he glanced after his family, who were paying him no heed._

_Arturo dashed off to the tree. Leaping onto the trunk, he scaled his way to the branch within seconds._

_Once the banana was in his grasp, he leapt off the branch back down to ground level, landing with a notable squash._

_Arturo smiled at the produce in his hand. He extended his other hand to open it –_

_He seemed to lower closer to the ground._

_Arturo let his visible eye and hidden eye lower themselves to look at his feet._

_They weren't there._

_At least they weren't there fully. His feet were rooted in some moist, squishy sand._

_Quicksand._

_Instantly, Arturo flailed in panic, trying to remove his short feet. This only served to make him lower even more, the quicksand almost touching his main body._

_Arturo's struggled wasn't getting him anywhere. His family couldn't hear him, and there was no one around to help him._

_On a tall tree within seeing distance, a monkey ambled his way across a tree branch. He was a proboscis monkey, sporting a long tail and a comically long nose. Hearing the noise, he turned his head towards the source._

_He saw Arturo panicking. He saw Arturo's flailing hands._

_And he saw a banana in one of those hands._

_The proboscis monkey's eyes lit up with juicy bananas, his mouth stretching wider then possible._

_Hesitating not for an instance, he ran back out of sight._

_Arturo's flailing had by now caused his belly to reach the quicksand. His backpack was almost caught too._

_Suddenly, a simian shout made him stop, looking off to the side. _

_And Arturo's eyeball widened in its socket._

_Approaching on a swinging vine, yelling in the moment, was the proboscis monkey. His free hand was outstretched. And he was focused on the trapped Arturo._

_He reached the vicinity around Arturo. His hand clasped around Arturo's arm._

_Arturo's feet pulled free of the quicksand._

_Once Arturo's feet touched solid ground again, Arturo collapsed to his knees. By the time he had stood back up again, the proboscis monkey had released the vine, now facing him._

_Arturo faced the monkey, who looked back. Notable was the inch or two the primate had over him height-wise._

_The monkey's eyes lowered down, then up again. Arturo followed his direction of sight, looking back in confusion._

_The proboscis monkey repeated his action, keeping his eyes focused on Arturo. Arturo followed his gaze, seeing what the monkey was looking at._

_The banana in Arturo's hand._

_The simian repeated once again. After following suit, Arturo pointed at the banana._

_Arturo's received response was another look at the banana._

_Frowning somewhat, Arturo held out the banana. It came into the monkey's grasp._

_Smiling, the proboscis monkey pulled on the top, straining. His face twisted with effort, but nothing came to fruit._

_Arturo lowered his eyelids slightly, fighting the urge to laugh._

_The proboscis monkey's struggles continued, his hands now pulling at the banana._

_He then noticed a hand hovering near the banana._

_He handed it back to Arturo. Two seconds later it was returned to the proboscis monkey, peeled open._

_Taking a juicy bite out of the produce, the proboscis monkey left the scene._

_Arturo stared after the retreating sounds of a banana being chewed. He lowered his head, notably down._

_He suddenly looked up, another smile on his face._

_Placing his backpack in front of him, he dug around in it. Once he stopped, his tongue retreated back inside his mouth, just as his hand returned from his backpack._

_In his hand was a taco. And in Arturo's visible eye was the same taco, reflected as well as imagined._

_Swinging his backpack back on, Arturo left the scene for his family, taking a bite into the taco as he went._

* * *

><p>'And then,' said the proboscis monkey, seeming more human and possessing a brain extending out of his skull, 'he took a taco from his bag, and, chewing it, left!'<p>

Many other primates seated around the campfire, all possessing similar extended brains, laughed hard. Several small chimpanzees were rolling on the ground laughing. Some gibbons were clinging to each other for support.

'True story,' added the proboscis monkey, the laughter dying down as the monkeys reseated themselves on the logs.

'But, Hacha?' A podgy orangutan raised a hand. 'Did you ever see him again?'

'Not since then,' frowned Hacha, his happy mood diminishing.

'Do you ever wonder if you'll see him again?' grunted a huge mountain gorilla.

'Sometimes,' thought Hacha. He looked up to the stars, many visible from their lone tropical island.

'But, I have a feeling we'll share a taco – somehow…'

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt was 'Secrets.'<strong>

**This drabble came from a weird inspiration. At a summer animation course, I brainstormed several short film ideas at one point. One of those shorts was this story here, except with original characters and no bookends. After the prompt was issued, a lightbulb appeared above my head. I adapted it, used existing characters instead, added bookends, wrote it in a unique and quirky style, and voila!  
>For both the original and this version, slapstick was the name of the game. I was really going for something in the vein of Looney Toons &amp; Tom and Jerry here, and I hope it showed. It also, excepting the bookends, upholds the golden animation rule: No Talking.<br>The silent, Chuck Jones-esque humor probably works better in a visual format, but I like it here too. And despite the ending bookend, no serious character connection was intended whatsoever. Both Arturo and Hacha are very comical characters anyway.  
>This can also be considered semi-related to <em>Maria<em> and a little more so to _That's Not Just Bonkers - That's Bananas!_  
>This is probably one of my best drabbles, I think. Clever, funny and creative. A-<strong>


	11. August 2012 Entry: The Plague

**The Plague**

"_The City Of Townsville!_

"_And even without any crime today, The Powerpuff Girls find themselves in a completely unbelievable situation."_

Blossom just couldn't believe it.

It had all started when Bubbles had brought home a lost rabbit. Although Blossom and Buttercup had reminded her of Professor's rabbit fear, she somehow managed to convince them into keeping him a secret.

And then the next day they came home from school to find loads of rabbits all over the house. As Buttercup said, it was like a big Rabbit Rock 'em Match. Blossom thought it was more like a Rabbit Plague. Thankfully, Professor was out at the time. Bubbles had managed to hide them in the spare toilet just before he came home.

And then, right before he went to bed, Professor headed in the direction of the spare toilet.

Buttercup jumped after him, saying she needed to go first. Yet once she had entered the toilet, it was vacant. Not a vertebrate in there apart from herself. She left the room, leaving Professor to enter it.

As Buttercup floated away from the room, Blossom and Bubbles approached. "Bubbles, where are they? They're not in there!" hissed Buttercup.

"They're not?" questioned Blossom curiously.

"No, it was a rabbit-free hutch,' responded Buttercup. Blossom had to stifle a laugh at Buttercup's side joke.

"I definitely put them in there," said Bubbles curiously, looking upwards. The girls all thought for a moment.

"Why's Professor afraid of rabbits again?" asked Buttercup.

"Well," said Blossom, forgoing that she had already recounted this tale twice recently, "he was trapped in a lift with them once. They started nibbling at his lab coat, and… everything." Bubbles and Buttercup nodded in understanding, still thinking about where the rabbits might be.

"Wait a minute, what about our room?" said Bubbles suddenly. "They kept following my toy bunny earlier. Maybe they had to see her one last time."

Buttercup actually let out a short laugh, before she covered her mouth, remembering that Professor was nearby.

"Bubbles," said Blossom sharply, "I think you might be putting that in a romantic context, but good guess. Come on." The three girls floated off towards their room quickly, which was on the same second-floor balcony. Approaching, Blossom pushed the door open, and they entered, darkness inside as the light was off.

"Bubbles, you're right," exclaimed Blossom. "They're all in here!" The rabbits were all over the room. Most of them were sitting still, wrinkling their noses. Some moved forward every few seconds. And some were in a circle around Bubbles' female toy bunny, seated in a remote control car. "How did they get in?"

"They must have burrowed in," added Buttercup, looking around. "You know rabbits."

"All right guys," said Blossom, "Let's take them in shifts, get them out of the house, and release them into the wild."

"Blossom,' said Bubbles in a pleading voice. "Why can't we just leave the bunnies here?"

Blossom finally snapped. "Bubbles, I can't take it! My nerves are shot! I won't be able to relax until the only rabbit around is the one sitting in your head, working the controls!" Bubbles whimpered slightly, floating down an inch or two.

"Guys," called Buttercup's voice from their closet. "There's more in here."

"We'll start with those guys," said Blossom. She and Bubbles floated over, entering the closet.

In the darkness of the room, some of the rabbits moved about. One rabbit approached a small black object, not seeing it. He moved over it, knocking a lever forward.

The toy car that the toy bunny was in started to move forward, towards the door. The rabbits that had been seated around it turned, watching in surprise.

The rabbit moved sideways, hitting another lever on the wireless car controller. Just as the car got outside the Powerpuff's room, it turned sideways, moving down the second-floor balcony. Out of their room came the rabbits, following the car and it's stationary occupant.

Back in the room, the girls came out of their closet, carrying five rabbits each.

"Wait a minute," said Blossom. She moved to the side, flicking the room's light switch.

It came out, lighting up the room. It was instantly clear that they and the rabbits they were holding were the only ones in the room.

"Where'd the bunnies go?" said Bubbles. Blossom floated over to their room's door, her sisters following.

They exited onto the second-floor balcony. Blossom looked to her left, and gasped in surprise.

"On no!" The door to Professor's room was open, and one white rabbit was crawling his way through the open door. "Not Professor's room! Come on!" The girls zoomed over, floating into the room, which also had the light off.

Entering, they saw that the rabbits were all over the room. "Guys, get as many as you can!" hissed Blossom. Bubbles began making bunny sounds, attracting the rabbits' attention. Blossom and Buttercup also added in similar sounds, the girls bending down to the ground.

At the same time, muttering came from the bed. Professor leaned up, and turned on his bedside light.

And he froze instantly. The girls also stopped moving, seeing he was up. All fifteen rabbits in their hands were clear. Slowly, Professor looked around the room, seeing rabbits on the floor, on the furniture, and some even on his bed. He slowly pulled his covers closer, trembling nervously. He then looked back to the girls.

Buttercup somehow managed to speak. "Just a bad dream, Professor." Bubbles and Buttercup nodded, backing Blossom up. "Over in a mo."

Professor nodded in slow understanding, lying back down. He closed his eyes, and lay still, as though he was asleep again.

Blossom and Bubbles gaped at Buttercup, unbelieving that her idea had actually worked. They bent down to the rabbits –

Professor suddenly bolted upright, screaming in total terror.

"_Honestly, who'd be scared of rabbits?_

"_So, once again, the day is saved, thanks to, The Powerpuff Girls! Or, well, actually, it wasn't saved. Never thought the girls wouldn't succeed…"_

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt was 'Taboo.'<strong>

**A concisely-written parody, this was an attempt to write a drabble that was 100% the show. It worked! Definitely one of my funniest drabbles so far.  
>The idea regarding Professor's fear came from a newspaper article (yes, it actually happened to someone!). I added in the "and... everything" gag, which is in the same vein as Robin's "I was an accident too" line in Super Friends. A lot of the dialogue gags came naturally. My favorite is Blossom's jab at Bubbles, about her nerves being shot and the following gag. Certainly, it's entertaining enough. I'm reasonably pleased with it.<strong>


	12. October 2012 Entry: Tricks

**Tricks**

Mojo Jojo walked around one of his observatory's chambers. He looked around, seeing only failure after failure. Every machine, remotely operated or piloted by himself, doomed to flounder before he even began. Every plan, destined to go pear-shaped. Every missile, fated to miss its mark.

Every attempt at world domination, condemned to poof its power against The Powerpuff Girls.

Who was he tricking, to think he had a chance after so many losses?

Yet as Mojo looked around, he observed that not everything plan remnant in his observatory's storage chamber fitted this criteria. And as he became aware of this, he also perceived something else.

Most plans that had gotten far had not been physical battles of technology versus superpowers. No, the plans that had, despite losing, exceeded his expectations, had instead been tests of wit, subtlety, patience, and deception.

Mojo came upon an old trench coat folded over some unused crates. Before he even picked up it, the memories came flooding back. Yes indeed, that had been a well-thought plan, getting some of the girls' friends to defeat them for him. Although he should have known they would turn against him too, that plan had nonetheless been a bright spot in a pool of blackness at the time.

Against the nearby wall was a big machine with a glass interior, containing a badly fabricated dummy. This too brought a loose smile to Mojo's wrinkled face. True, victory had seemed assured once he had attached the girls to each other. But his overconfidence had again been his downfall, not anticipating they would shelve their endless bickering. Still, as he had dug his way out of jail later that day, he had made a mental note to file the good points away for future use.

Nearby, as it had been the next plan then, was a growth ray. The logic for this scheme had involved initial deception to get the girls briefly still, but was otherwise a simple plan in theory. Yet after his DVD store raid, many of which he still had, they had overcome the giant problem and won again. And all because he had left the invention behind.

Next to grab his attention was one of his Robo Jojo domes, the top covered with a loose bath towel. This one brought a shudder to his fur, both from the beatings from Bubbles and the endless banter that she had placed upon his person. Especially as it had not been an idea at all, but rather a blunder that had seemed briefly hopeful.

As he moved on, Mojo glossed over the less important ones. The bucket hat that had belonged to a poor excuse for a returning monkey minion didn't deserve his attention, despite getting the girls captured effortlessly. Neither did the surprise body transfer that had him as visually innocent as any other citizen of Townsville. Likewise, the attempt to get Professor and the girls to give him powers was off-limits, as it had led to the revelation of information that still shocked him today.

Mojo came across a believable, pigtailed blond wig. Reflecting, he found that had been, without a doubt, one of his most successful plots, though it did not triumph. Posing as a young girl had been stressful on his dignity, along with his vocal chords, but it had actually resulted in some fun with the girls, ranging from tea to dancing to looking at an animator's column. And he had successfully neutralized their powers to boot! Until he got his booty beat back by a bunch of normal girls, that is.

Mojo did not even need to look around for the next remnant of one of his designs. He was standing in it. Yes, the building of the observatory, and the subsequent events, still surfaced in his mind every now and then, though he did his best to ignore it. The irony was, he had not even considered that harming the girls' father figure would have them come zooming back, vanquishing his monkey lackeys and finally defeating him. Though he put up one darn good fight – right down to the trick that they could work together!

Thinking about all of these plans, and more besides, Mojo came to realize one more detail. As it sunk in, he froze, the only movement his ever-blowing purple cape.

His better plans involved tricks.

Even Mojo's brain found this baffling. Gathering himself, and noticing that through the observatory's windows, night had already set, he turned suit and paced away. As he left the room, he turned his head and helmet back around briefly, seeing all the lost plans, good and bad.

He wouldn't try repeating a plan and changing one detail. That had brought none too pleasant results to his rear end. But maybe he could take some details from these plans of masquerading and reshape them into something magnificent.

Deciding to sleep on it, Mojo headed off for a quick TV dinner.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt was 'Masquerade.'<strong>

**Nothing so much as a love letter to Mojo episodes, this was also an experimentation in a Mojo-voice style, while not being strictly first-person POV. The choice and order of the recollections has significance, and sure, I probably left out some key Mojo episodes. Still, though it needs a re-reading to fully appreciate it, it's insightful enough. Not good enough to be timeless, but perfectly diverting in the moment.**

**Reviews, please? This fic has a decent amount of hits and followers and favorites, so you must be reading it. Even little reviews, people? They do help motivate me, after all.**


	13. November 2012 Entry: A Lonely Silence

**A Lonely Silence**

Grubber was delegated to a silence from which he yearned to escape. Then again, so were the rest of the gang bar Ace, so to speak.

Snake did not enjoy being Ace's sniveling yes-man, despite what one might think. Snake was the gang's loose second-in-command, but reaffirming Ace's statements was as far as this position stretched.

Big Billy often tried to be both the voice of reason and questioning, but was just too simple-minded to say anything that Ace wouldn't shoot down, thereby reducing Billy to his bouncer role.

And as for Arturo, he had the widest variety of roles in the gang. Half of these were lookouts, the other half involved his small size, which he often confided in all the others, except Ace, was something he longed to escape from. Snake and Billy expressed their own problems at these points, but Grubber remained quiet.

Oh, sure, the gang understood Grubber's way of speaking with his tongue, but even including that, there was no denying he spoke the least of the five by far, even when they were alone.

Ace had it easy, thought Grubber. He decided virtually everything the gang did. The other four couldn't so much as steal a balloon without Ace's approval. They were so used to following orders, of never making decisions by themselves – except for that time Billy followed the Powerpuff Girls around – that all of them, especially Grubber, almost didn't know how to follow their own instincts.

Now, Ace's ideas were good most of the time. Certainly, none of the others were fit to be leader. They got away with enough crimes to support themselves. So it wasn't a thought that tailed him day and night.

Most outsiders never thought of the gang's members on their own. The Powerpuff Girls, other villains, and most of Townsville considered the gang as one, not five. This was something else that coaxed Grubber into remaining hushed as much as he did.

And Grubber's ability to briefly reform himself and speak properly was little more then a joke for the gang's pleasure, and not something he really considered as proper vocal expression.

At the day's end, Grubber remained little more then a grotesque member of one of Townsville's nuisances. Not villain group – nuisance. And if the gang was just a nuisance… then Grubber was no more then an underling, albeit a creative, helpful underling.

And in a way… he was actually okay with that. Imagine that! A silent lackey, okay with being silent! Of course they longed for something better then their gang life. But while they were living it, Grubber, and Arturo, Snake and Big Billy, were perfectly content to live as they did. As Ace always said, 'If it ain't yours, take it anyway, guys.'

And if ever asked whether he yearned to abscond… Grubber blew a raspberry that didn't actually mean anything, but which was a satisfactory answer to all who heard it.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt was 'Escape.'<strong>

**Not that we'd ever want to see anything like this in the show itself, but I am pleased with the result. I think it captured both Grubber's comical side, and the side that exists for this drabble but which still makes perfect sense. It has many insights, into Billy, Snake and Arturo's views on Ace, why they stay with him, and their opinion on what everyone else thinks of them. Admittedly, it's conclusion that swaps the angst through for an "it's okay" message could have been pulled off better, and it is, like several previous drabbles, just reflection rather then an actual incident. But it's still one of my strongest in quite a while. And we need more proper Gangreen Gang fics, not the Ace/Buttercup romances that, despite being hinted at in the show, makes no sense to continue.**


	14. December 2012 Entry: Scam Of The Season

**Scam Of The Season**

"Okay guys," said Ace one winter morning. "What should we do today?"

"Daa," droned Billy, "why don'ts we do our Chrismas shappings?"

Ace sighed in frustration. "Two reasons, Billy. One, we don't have money to spare! Two, the only good thing about Christmas is robbing stupidly happy people!"

"Speaking of happy people," chimed Arturo, scurrying up, "where's Grubber?"

Right on cue, the middle-height gang member burst through their door. As he trotted up to the group, they noticed what he was carrying.

"What's that, Grubber?" said Ace, gesturing to the machine Grubber had.

"I know what that is!" cheeped Arturo, darting up to Grubber. "Papi had one. That's an automatic telephone, Ace!"

"An autodialer?" Ace gazed at the machine, noticing the buttons, number display, and recording controls.

"It'sss can callsss peoples for youss," said Snake softly.

"I know that!" snarled Ace. "Why'd you get that, Grubber?

Grubber blew several raspberries. As they went on, the gang's eyes stretched wider, especially Ace's.

"Grubber," said Ace shortly, "that is an excellent idea! This is gonna be the scam of the season!"

A while later, Ace had the autodialer set up in their shack corner, the others grouped around.

"Alright, it's ready," said Ace. "This'll call everyone in town, and play the message. People want to be happiest at Christmas. We'll be raking in the dough!"

"Whatss if it doesn't workss?" asked Snake fearfully.

"There's five of us," countered Ace. "We'll change the message every day. No one will have a clue!"

Ace pressed the button, and a dialing tone clicked from the machine, working it's way through the network.

* * *

><p>"<em>The City of Townsville –"<em>

A ringing sound interrupted.

"_Oh, excuse me."_ A phone was picked up. _"Hello?_"

"Holiday greetings!" said a voice. "Do you want a happy Christmas? Well, you've got what it takes! All you gotta do is send five dollars to Christmas Buddy, Townsville Dump. Don't delay! The best Christmas ever is just a fiver away!"

The dial tone clicked. The phone was hung up.

"_Five dollars for the happiest Christmas ever…"_

"_Eh, I'm happy watching everyone else being happy."_

* * *

><p>The gang woke to find an envelope in the rusty postbox by their shack. Inside was a five-dollar bill.<p>

"Five dollars!" chuckled Ace, the gang cheering. "It's working, guys!"

* * *

><p>Mayor sat in his office blankly. "I don't feel any happier," he said slowly.<p>

He looked forward, and spotted his newest pickle jar on his desk.

"Or maybe I do," grinned Mayor, reaching for it.

* * *

><p>The phone in Him's lair rang. He stretched out a claw, plucking it up.<p>

"Yes?" he said highly.

"Greetingsss, friend," hissed a voice. "You can gets yourselfsss a jolly Christmasss, by posting five dollarsss to Christmas Buddy, Townsville Dump. Who doesn't want a merry Christmasss?"

Even before the call had terminated, Him was seething mad. He slammed the phone down, snarling.

"_A merry Christmas is the last thing I want!_" he rasped brutally.

* * *

><p>"Jojo Observatory," grunted Mojo. "Mojo Jojo speaking."<p>

Several raspberries followed. Mojo started.

"That could only be the very same autodialer I invented in my youth," reminisced Mojo softly. "Oh, it's being a while."

As more raspberries ensued, Mojo's eyes plummeted. "I do not believe what I am hearing!" he moaned. "I designed that device to taunt Townsville on my days off! Someone's using it for a confidence trick!"

* * *

><p>Fuzzy heard a nearby payphone ringing. Dashing, he picked it up.<p>

"Howdy?" he grunted.

"Hi, friend," responded a slow voice. "Do you wanna be happy? Send five dollors to Chrismas Buudy, Townsville Domp, and ya'll have the bestest Chrismas ever!"

Fuzzy hung up. He remained still for a moment, before he picked Joe up, holding him close.

"As long as I have you, Joe, I'm the happiest Lumpkin in these here parts!" hooted Fuzzy cheerfully.

* * *

><p>"Hello?" squeaked Bubbles.<p>

"Hola, amigo, Christmas Buddy speaking. Do you want a happy Christmas?" A smile appeared on Bubbles' face. "You've got the power inside you! Si, mail five dollars to Christmas Buddy, Townsville Dump, and the best Christmas ever is guaranteed! Feliz Navidad!"

Bubbles hung up, and dashed past her sisters, startling them. They watched her fly out the window with an envelope and some money. Exchanging glances, they followed.

"What are you doing, Bubbles?" said Blossom, catching her at the snowy street corner.

"Giving money to Christmas Buddy," replied Bubbles, sealing the envelope and putting it in a postbox.

"Who?" said Buttercup.

"Christmas Buddy was on the phone," said Bubbles. "He said to mail five dollars and we'd get the best Christmas ever!"

Suddenly, a nearby payphone went off. Blossom approached and picked it up. "Hello?" she said.

Blossom listened to the message. As it continued, her eyes curved, realizing what was going on.

She swiftly hung up, swinging around.

"There a con man in Townsville, girls!" said Blossom. "Let's go!" They took to the sky, Bubbles still confused.

"What's a con man, Blossom?" asked Bubbles as they flew.

"Someone's using an autodialer to trick people in Townsville into sending money away," said Blossom. "We've got to stop him before everyone loses their Christmas money!"

Buttercup suddenly stopped, pointing down. "Prime suspects one, two and three!" Her sisters paused and looked.

Down at a three-way crossroad, Mojo, Fuzzy and Him were approaching, all looking mad.

"_I'm going to get this Christmas Buddy if it's the last thing I do!_" snarled Him angrily.

"He made me get me out of ma bath ten times!" wailed Fuzzy.

"He is forcing my invention to spout junk I would never consider recording!" grunted Mojo furiously.

"He called you guys too?" asked Buttercup, floating down to the villains.

"Not just that," growled Mojo, "but he didn't even speak English! Why pull a telemarketing scam on people that cannot understand the way in which you communicate?"

"That's odd," wondered Bubbles. "Christmas Buddy spoke English to me, and Spanish."

"Wait a minute," said Blossom. Everyone stopped, slowly realizing what this meant.

"What did Christmas Buddy sound like to you?" said Blossom to Him and Fuzzy.

"He kept hissing like a serpent," said Him, puzzled.

"He was real sweet," hooted Fuzzy, " but real slow an' stupid!"

Blossom suddenly looked up. All six suddenly grasped it.

"There is only one group of people in Townsville that fit that criteria!" realized Mojo.

"You're right, Mojo!" said Blossom. "And we know just where they'll be!"

* * *

><p>Inside their shack, the gang looked at all the money they had.<p>

"One hundred dollars!" smirked Ace, holding up the notes in his hand.

"By the time Christmas is over, we'll be rich," smiled Arturo.

"Man, the people in this town are stupid," snorted Ace.

On cue, the door slammed open. The gang whirled around, gasping.

There floated the Powerpuff Girls, along with Mojo, Fuzzy and Him behind them. All six were glaring at the gang.

"Christmas Buddy? Really?" said Buttercup, drawing closer.

"There's something you guys don't get," said Blossom, floating up.

"_I'd sooner burn then have a happy Christmas!_" gnarled Him, joining the two girls.

"You tarnished the name of Christmas Buddy!" yelled Bubbles, still distraught.

"You mutilated my brilliant piece of technology!" growled Mojo deeply, stepping up beside Blossom.

"And ya got me out of da bath ten times!" screeched Fuzzy.

The three girls shot forward, as did Him, Mojo and Fuzzy.

"Wait a sec, wait a sec, we can explain!" stammered Ace, but Blossom socked him across the jaw.

"We just wanted a happy Christmas for ourselves!" moaned Billy, before Fuzzy struck him in the gut.

Snake tried to run, but Him clenched his claws around his neck and legs, stretching him out.

Buttercup and Mojo grabbed an end of Grubber each. They pulled him back, and whacked him against the shack wall repeatedly, a raspberry resonating each time.

"Hola, Arturo," said Bubbles angrily, picking the midget up by the scruff of his red poncho. "No siempre empanar el nombre de la Navidad Buddy!" He whimpered, smiling nervously, but Bubbles smacked him across the face anyway.

"_That'll teach you poor excuses for scam artists!_

"_So once again, Christmas is saved, thanks to the Powerpuff Girls! Oh, and, uh, Mojo, Fuzzy and Him. Never knew Mojo invented an autodialer…"_

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt was 'Stealing Christmas.'<strong>

**The Spanish Bubbles says to Arturo towards the end roughly translates to: "No tarnishing the name of Christmas Buddy!" However, I believe it comes across better untranslated, as it leaves us to focus on Bubbles' mood instead, and hearing 'Navidad Buddy' gives us the gist of the joke.**

**I had my doubts about doing two Gangreen Gang entries in a row, but I just went with it. This was another hard attempt to be show-like, being silly, and not meant to be taken seriously. Without trying to sound cocky, it is funny. Though this isn't the first time the Gangreen Gang have had fun calling other people, the idea for a telemarketing scam just fitted, and the various' villains reactions to it just fell into place (especially Him's, Fuzzy's too, while Mojo's took a short while, but I was wowed when it did come to me). As did the girls' reactions and how they all managed to find out who was pulling the scam, by the fact that the Gangreen Gang's firewall led to them being caught. And some of the dialogue lines are brilliant, especially any that have "Christmas Buddy" in it.  
>Two changes were made along the way. The Mayor's gag was originally for the Amoeba Boys, and Princess was in there too, taking the Narrator's place as the first called person. And I considered omitting the beginning section, but decided against it, leading to the drabble being about 1300 words long, but who cares?<br>All in all, it's a entry I'm very, very, very proud of.**


	15. April 2013 Entry: Stones

**Stones**

"I can juggle, you are aware."

No one replies – the accustomed antiphon when no one is around to hear, of course – but it was not infrequent for Mojo to communicate to himself. He picks up one stone, then another. He does this until he has eight amassed in his gloved palms, thence he commences. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. All eight curved beach pebbles circle elliptically in the air. He doesn't focus heavily, he just does it. There is nothing to be heard except the ebbing of the tide on the sand.

When he first started, it was difficult. His monkey mood flared when he dropped one, usually on his foot, or worse, his helmet. But he persisted. There was little else to do most evenings, except for television and his shipbuilding hobby, both of which grew tiresome when they were too frequent.

He wonders what the Powerpuff Girls would think of this if they knew. Laugh their heads off, probably. They had not so far, as he kept his eyes peeled for followers whenever he travelled to this beach in the evenings, always deserted at night. But what would they honestly say? Little practical came to mind.

Eight stones flew across the air. Eight stones fell back down. Eight stones landed in his hands. Eight stones were hurled back up again.

Stone one. Himself.

Stone two. Blossom.

Stone three. Bubbles.

Stone four. Buttercup.

Stone five. Fuzzy Lumpkins.

Stone six. Him.

Stone seven. The Rowdyruff Boys.

Stone eight. Princess Morbucks.

He let the eighth pebble plunge first, and pretends it was an accident. He still didn't like Princess. Maybe it was her calling his cranium empty in jail and telling him to move, but she still scraped him wrong. And she was a spoiled brat on both occasions that they had worked together. Only habit kept him from cutting the number permanently.

The Rowdyruff Boys' stone slumps next, and it is slightly not on purpose. They were his creation, indeed, but he had to remember that they didn't acknowledge him except when he was focused on them. Sharing the parentage was actually a good thing. They never helped with concocting him schemes (not that he ever expected them to) and only with performing them when it tailored to their (lazy) requirements. But it was little things that burned Mojo as time passed.

Managing six stones is trickier for him then any other number, so he instead tosses Him's stone over his helmet in a hesitant gesture before returning to his tempo. Him was a great villain, now that Mojo actually took the time to talk to him. Being the evilest being there is was no easy task, Mojo supposed, and indeed there were times, through the flamboyant laughs and convoluted plans, where he sees Him start to break around the edges. One week when Mojo took the Rowdyruff Boys back, he saw something in Him's eyes – something that made Mojo restless. Was it fear?

The five stones are his prime for a fair interval, but he eventually blunders, Fuzzy's making him wince as it bounces off his toe. He and Fuzzy were close comrades; they played poker games at least once a week, and sometimes collaborated in Townsville attacks, even. But there were times when Mojo would want Fuzzy to retreat to his shack. A lifetime of shouldering did that to a chimpanzee, he supposed; after years of space, it was hard to relinquish it. But Mojo was adept at communicating the message without setting Fuzzy off on his trademark tantrum, leaving Mojo to his thoughts and silence, except when penetrated by his own voice. It was better that way.

Four stones were left, and he kept them current. Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup. The stones arced in the air and tumbled down to his fingers before he tossed them up again, a past encounter popping into his head with each circle. Monkey See, Doggie Doo. Just Another Maniac Mojo. Los Dos Mojos. Slumbering With The Enemy. As much as he would never admit it, they were the reason he got up in the morning. They were his only obstacles to world domination, but they unknowingly challenged him to better himself, and he was grateful for that beyond words. As he leisurely tossed the four stones in a lazy circle, catching them with ease as his mind wandered, a smile began to dawn on his face.

"Hey, Banana-Brain!" Three voices chirped, and Mojo jolted. All four stones fell to the beach and rolled away. He turned and saw Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup sitting on a nearby boulder, rocking back and forth with smiles. "What are you up to, Mojo?"

"What?" While he stalled, Mojo racked his brains, and then remembered that they often patrolled the skies in the evenings. 'Nothing that concerns you, Powerpuff Girls." He started across the sand, but they stopped him, darting into his path.

"Maybe it doesn't," muttered Buttercup. They each picked up a pebble (the same pebbles that had previously represented them, coincidentally). They thrust them towards him, floating in front of him.

"That thing you were doing! Do it again!" said Blossom. He was ready to say no, but they were staring up at him with eyes bigger then dinner plates.

"Please?" Bubbles begged, and he couldn't help but relent.

"Alright, you've convinced me." He sighed in semi-mock defeat, sitting back on his reclusive rock as he took the pebbles from them delicately. "Pass onto my person five more," he asked, and all three of them did as told before sitting back on their boulder, watching in awe.

"Eight?" They asked as he commenced, mouths comically agape. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. All eight curved beach pebbles circle elliptically in the air. He doesn't focus heavily, he just does it. The girls sequel in joy and watch them all orbit in awe.

After a while, Mojo smiles.

"I can juggle, you are aware."

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt was 'No More Chemical X.'<strong>

**The idea here was that, whenever Mojo feels like ending it all (and going back to being Jojo), he comes to a beach to practice his secret talent, and it helps remind him of what he does have. And this night he is reminded that his relationship to the girls does not always involve fighting.  
>I went on a four month-hiatus between this and the previous drabble. The community as a whole had long since dropped in entry popularity. And I had exams coming up at the time - this last drabble was something of stress relief more then anything. It was also another Mojo-type voice without being a direct Mojo-type voice, and is arguably more successful in that area then Tricks.<br>This fic is now finished. It was fun when the prompts came around, and the format allows for different stories then my feature-length fics I usually write in this fandom. So, another fic that was In-Progress for over two years complete... though unlike other fics of mine, the delay only came in late uploads, and not writing this thing. So, whoever reads this in the time after now, enjoy. This fic is a special little collection.**

**Oh, and for future readers... what order would you put the drabbles in? I would really appreciate it if you would say so in your reviews, giving grades and reasons only if you wish. Mine is as follows:  
>1. A Bubbly Christmas (A-)<br>2. That's Not Just Bonkers - That's Bananas! (A-)  
>3. Scam Of The Season (A-)<br>4. The Mexican, The Monkey, And The Banana (A-)  
>5. Routine (B+)<br>6. Joe (B+)  
>7. Uncertainty (B+)<br>8. A Lonely Silence (B)  
>9. Maria (B)<br>10. Stones (B)  
>11. The Plague (B)<br>12. Tricks (B-)  
>13. Relations (B-)<br>14. An Egg-Cellent Easter (C+)  
>15. Soaring (C+)<strong>

**Peace out, people.**


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